Something Latin
by TheseBrokenWings
Summary: Please, no one hate me. Oneshot. DudleyHarry. Onesided, don't worry. It's DracoHarry too. Ugh... it's too hard to explain. Please read and review, I'm really proud of this one! Slashy, obviously. Not at all graphic, not even any swearing P


** Something Latin  
**

"Dudley, do you believe in love?"

Dudley looked over at the body of his cousin, lying only a meter from him. Fireworks sounded dully, their explosions deadened by distance. Harry was watching the stars.

"…What?"

Harry's arms were not crossed beneath his head, as most people's would be, to provide a bit of comfort when lying on the cold sand, still damp and salty from this morning's high tide. They lay at his sides, straight, and even through the dark Dudley could see the goose bumps growing on them, the fuzz of hair standing up for warmth.

"Do you believe in love?"

His glasses were askew, probably still bent from when, earlier that day, Dudley had leapt upon him while he weeded in the garden, rubbing a handful of dirt vigorously into his face. It had mixed with Harry's sweat, running down his face in brown trails, his eyes red and exposed, the glasses having fallen to the ground.

"…I don't know."

Harry sighed, turning over onto his side, away from Dudley, the sand clinging to his back; clusters and swirls. It was in his hair too, the light from the party to which Dudley's parents had reluctantly dragged them refracting off of it like stars in the night sky.

"I used to think I did."

Harry's back trembles as he speaks, the slight frame which Dudley teases him about showing every movement, every tremor. It scares him, thinking about it. The way Harry's ribs show through his skin, his shoulder bones jutting out, hips traceable even through Dudley's over-sized hand-me-downs, each one like a secret, raw and exposed. Dudley wonders what it must be like, wonders if Harry feels naked all the time.

"What changed?"

In truth, Dudley never doubted that Harry would save the world. He hadn't known what it needed saving from, hadn't understood why Harry was the one who had to save it, but he knew Harry would. It was a simple truth, like that the sky was blue, or that his mother would never stop calling him by ridiculous pet names. Harry was a hero. And Dudley had resented him for it, for being noble, and smart, and beautiful, for always getting up when he was pushed down, and for taking what he got without a word.

"I… I guess _I_ did."

Dudley had figured that after that last summer; when Harry had come home from his school even angrier and more withdrawn than the previous one, mumbling murderously about someone named Snape and clutching a black locket, he would never see Harry again. That he would never come back to Privet Drive, and go live in his own world forever. But half way through the year Harry had shown up on his parent's doorstep, and had come silently, with only a letter from someone named McGonagall saying that the war was over and Harry needed to stay with them for a while. Dudley had badgered him for months about why he was back, had he been expelled from that freak school, had his friends realized what a poof he really was, had the Voldy guy gotten them all? But Harry was unresponsive, going dully along with his parent's orders, and never, not once, mentioning magic. He hadn't even brought home his horrid owl, or the trunk in which he kept all his things. Pestering him had gotten boring, so Dudley resorted back to his normal bullying and physical abuse. But it wasn't the same. Something had… happened to Harry.

"…Yeah?"

The sounds of the grown-ups celebrating whatever it was were drowned into a dull hum by the crashing of the waves on the beach, the water forming infinitely dark, undulating shapes topped with foam and seaweed. Dudley turned his eyes away from it, his fear embarrassing, to find equally dark eyes staring at him, Harry's body lifted on one elbow, his shirt pulled up slightly revealing a sliver of skin. Dudley shivered, uncomfortable under his cousin's gaze.

"Dudley… would you do something for me?"

Dudley's eyes narrowed, unconsciously clenching his hands into fists in his lap, balling up the wet sand inside them. He didn't like the way Harry was looking at him, hungrily; those green eyes darkened by the night and a haze of pain, and his parents up on the deck, at least a kilometer behind them. No one would hear if he screamed, if Harry had decided that enough was enough… but he was curious. So curious as to what this boy, this hero whose hair shined in the starlight could want from him.

"What do you want, Potter?"

Harry reached down his pant leg, and for a horrible, tantalizing moment Dudley thought he was going to pull out something else entirely, but no, it was his wand. Dudley shrank back, whimpering softly as Harry raised it in his right hand, pointing it at him.

"Show me if love is real?"

When Harry had opened his mouth Dudley had been sure he was going to cast a spell, something Latin and unintelligible that would turn him completely into a pig this time, or worse yet make him feel the way he did that time two summers ago, when the invisible Demention things, or whatever Harry called them, had attacked him, feel the happiness draining from him like blood, all good thoughts erased, and be again confronted with what he knew was true, but wasn't at all a happy thought. That he loved Harry. But instead… that. Dudley gaped at him for a moment, eyes furrowed, searching Harry's face, filled with a strange mixture of terrible, boundless hope, and fear.

"…Alright."

Harry leaned forward, the sand falling off him as he moved, and pressed the end of his wand to Dudley's forehead hard, at the place, Dudley estimated, where the tip of Harry's scar would have been if it had been him on this end of the wand instead of Dudley. Their eyes locked together, Harry now close enough for Dudley to see the green, see the painful anticipation that was shining in them, but Dudley had the strange feeling that Harry wasn't looking at him so much as through him, to someone else. Harry then whispered something unintelligible as Dudley knew he would, and suddenly something like a shock went through his body. Harry leaned back, his eyes traveling the whole of Dudley in an instant, before throwing himself on top of him, their chests pressed together with a kind of closeness Dudley had never felt, Harry's face centimeters from his.

"Talk like you hate me."

It felt like he had always imagined it would. To be under another person, under Harry, without the barrier of the excess weight he carried, naked, exposed. Harry had freed him, stripped him of his buffer of fat. But he was still himself… and if Harry wanted him, that must mean that…That he felt… Dudley caught an image of himself in Harry's glasses, ignoring the green eyes, shocked by the unfamiliar face he saw there. It stared back at him with piercing grey eyes, its face sharp and beautiful, with high cheek bones and immaculately kept blonde hair. Dudley's face twisted into an expression of anger, and was surprised to see the excitement in Harry's face heighten.

"I do hate you."

Harry smiled, leaning down to press his lips against Dudley's.

"Good."


End file.
